


Open Season

by booksong



Series: SportsFest 2018 Bonus Rounds [7]
Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Biting, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Reunion Fic, Tajima is extremely thirsty what else is new, innuendos, mentions of casual sex/one night stands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-19 20:18:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17008518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booksong/pseuds/booksong
Summary: "He’d told Ren he was going scouting today, and he was.  He’dneverpass up an opportunity to gather intel on potential competition, and any games this late in the series were almost never a disappointment.  But there was scouting, and then there wasscouting, and he’d just selectively neglected to tell Ren about the second meaning."OR; Tajima heads to the Championships as a spectator in more ways than one, but he's not expecting to run into someone who checks all his boxesquiteso perfectly.





	Open Season

**Author's Note:**

> *Over three months after SportsFest, I've finally decided to post up my bonus round entries! They'll all be collected in the 'SportsFest 2018 Bonus Round' series (though each stands completely on its own) if you'd like to check out the others. Many of these pairings and fandoms I've never written for before, so please let me know what you think!
> 
> Written for BR 2: Quotes, for this Texts From Last Night quote: _"Do you realize what downtown will be like this week? Like open season. But instead of deer its hot baseball players from all over the country that we'll never have to see again. I swear the college world series is a gift from god."_
> 
> *This was my first time writing for Oofuri (though I've loved it for a while now), and let me tell you Tajima is a _blast_ to write. Since Japan doesn’t actually have a college world series, I was a nerd who researched and found the next closest thing: the All-Japan University Baseball Championships at the Meiji-Jingu Stadium. Meiji and Tokai universities are just two of the many college teams that have actually played there.

When Tajima told Ren he was going scouting at the All-Japan University Baseball Championships, his roommate perked up in excitement and immediately started rattling off a list of names Tajima should look out for. Tajima knew the names already, of course; not only were many of them their sometime-opponents, but they’d both been avidly following each game in the series together, huddled in front of the widescreen TV they’d splurged on for exactly this reason. They had visitors often for these screenings, too; Takaya most of the time, of course, but occasionally if one of their other old teammates was in the area (and wasn’t playing in one of the aforementioned games), they’d end up with Fumiki and his long legs taking up a huge chunk of the sofa, or Kosuke yelling at Tajima to stop sitting a foot away from the screen because his head was in the way.

“Tokai’s c-catcher will probably be going all out today, especially after he started asking for that new pitch last game,” Ren was muttering, almost more to himself than Tajima. “Oh, and if Meiji’s new pinch hitter is in the lineup you have to take lots of n-notes!” Tajima found it deeply endearing that his old stutter now only tended to come out when he was especially excited or flustered--seeing his roommate’s clear eagerness made him almost sad that he wasn’t taking Ren along with him on this particular run.

_Almost_ , but…

As if on cue, Ren touched his elbow uncertainly. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come? I did tell Taka I’d watch this game with him as a d-date…” Here Ren flushed endearingly, and it made Tajima all the more glad and certain he was _not_ taking Ren today, for multiple reasons. “But if you really wanted company…”

“Nah, you enjoy your date! Takaya’ll be happy, you know he likes getting to spend time with you, especially if it’s with baseball!” Ren ducked his head, smiling at the ground in agreement. “I promise I’ll get a good look at everyone, and take enough notes for the both of us, ‘kay?”

This, thank god, was enough to satisfy Ren, who saw him off with a hug and a promise to pass on greetings to Takaya. Once the door was closed Tajima hiked his pack up a little more securely on his shoulder, gave himself a quick sniff to make sure his thorough shower this morning had done its work, and headed for the train station.

He’d told Ren he was going scouting today, and he was. He’d _never_ pass up an opportunity to gather intel on potential competition, and any games this late in the series were almost never a disappointment. But there was scouting, and then there was _scouting_ , and he’d just selectively neglected to tell Ren about the second meaning. Just like he’d told him he’d be spending the night at a hotel in Shinjuku so he wouldn’t have to take a late train back, which was _true_ , it just left out some details. Like that he wouldn’t be alone.

_You hope_ , said a wry voice in his mind, which Tajima disregarded immediately. That wasn’t the right kind of attitude to start this mission with _at all_.

***

When Tajima got off the train at Sendagaya station, his eyes snapped almost immediately to the telltale pinstripes of a baseball uniform amid the crowd. The guy wearing it was just about his height, maybe a little taller, with messy brown hair and the glorious thighs of a catcher, and Tajima knew he had arrived in the promised land.

He’d begun attending the Championships like this three years ago with the purest of intentions (truly)--his team hadn’t made the playoffs, but he’d still wanted to see what happened in person. Ren had come with him that first year, and they’d had a great time, analyzing pitchers and players in the stands by day and comparing stats and observations over an izakaya dinner or ramen at night. But Tajima had also found himself distracted, again and again, by how many incredibly attractive baseball players congregated in the area during this time. He’d had plenty of crushes in his day of course, sometimes on his own teammates, but there was just something about the sheer number of them all mingling together, all boasting and bragging and crackling with that delicious competitive energy that Tajima had always tended to channel in his gut, and lower.

Ren was wonderful company and Tajima loved him dearly, but back then he couldn’t help hoping maybe Ren wouldn’t come with him next year.

So when the next Championships had rolled around and Ren’s team made the playoffs, Tajima of course had gone to cheer him on. And because Ren roomed with his teammates, that meant there were no awkward explanations required when he’d hit it off with a rangy pitcher from one of the Big 6 Tokyo teams who laughed at his dirty jokes and didn’t seem to mind when Tajima scratched his back up a bit that night. It was easy and fun and Tajima had gone home resolved to definitely do it again--and now here he was, on his way to turning it into a tradition. 

Someone with more reservations and a heightened sense of shame might have balked at the idea of sleeping with someone they might end up facing on the field later, but it didn’t bother Tajima at all. It hadn’t happened yet, but he figured arrangements like this existed for a reason--he saw no problem with spending the night with someone and then going all out against them in a game the next day or month or year. In fact, it sounded kind of enjoyable, a nice extra edge to his usual appetite for competition. 

Tajima hopped up to perch on a concrete ledge that surrounded a neat bed of shrubs and flowers, where he had a basically central view of the players coming and going in and around the stadium. Some carried duffel bags, some were hassling their teammates, and others were clearly here for the same reason Tajima was (the watching the game part, not the hunting for one-night-stands part, although he wouldn’t have been surprised if he had a couple comrades-in-arms about).

For a while, in between bites of the sandwich he’d brought and texting Ren to let him know he’d arrived, Tajima simply indulged himself in _looking_ \--letting his eyes wander appreciatively as he took in the sights. This was meant to be a casual thing, and if he started making mental checklists and zeroing in on people too early it took all the relaxation out of it. And for all his inner jokes about ‘scouting,’ he honestly wasn’t into just grabbing the first attractive guy he saw and asking them to have sex. There had to be _something_ there--some appeal, some spark that snagged his attention.

There were definitely a few good prospects, Tajima mused after about an hour or so of this--even a couple of guys he thought had been eyeing him back. Ah well, there was still time; he could even hang around after the game and see if someone interesting (and interested) was around then. 

He hopped down off his concrete perch and was about to go stretch his legs by grabbing a snack before the game started when his gaze stopped on a guy who looked like he’d just arrived; he was patting the gear bag at his hip as if checking that it was still there.

The guy’s back was turned, so Tajima couldn’t see his face, but even without it there was _plenty_ to hold his attention.

First of all he was tall, an instant (and substantial) point in his favor from Tajima’s perspective. He was wearing a cap that mostly covered his head, but Tajima could see soft, short dark hair trailing down his nape and around his ears, just a couple inches long. _Just long enough to pull a little,_ supplied the part of his brain which had quickly descended the short (very short) distance into filthy for the purposes of this mission. His biceps filled out his short sleeves and his thighs did the same to the legs of his uniform pants. He had a _fantastic_ ass. And he was wearing a uniform in Meiji University colors, stretched tight over broad, solid shoulders. Which meant he was a player in today’s game.

At this point, pretty much every nerve in his mind and body (his body being especially on board) was humming to a single one-note thought: _Hell yes_. This was going to happen--this guy was going to get an invitation Tajima desperately hoped he wouldn’t turn down.

Then the guy half-turned, and Tajima’s eyes darted eagerly up to his face.

The sensation was a strange one; his stomach dropped like it was in freefall at the same moment the entire contents of his chest seemed to threaten to burst his ribcage. Tajima clamped down on the instinctive shout (or was it going to be a laugh?) that swelled in his throat.

It was Hanai.

_Of fuckin’ course it’s Hanai_ , said that same wry inner voice from before. He wondered if it was possible that his racing heart and the goosebumps on his nape and the approving heat in his groin had all known that familiar silhouette before his brain had caught up with the recognition.

But why was he _here?_

Unlike most of his other Nishiura teammates, who still came to his games and his apartment, or messaged him on LINE, or (in Ren’s case) lived with him, Hanai had drifted out of contact not long after high school. He’d made a token effort to stick around for a while, to join them when he could, but at some point he’d seemed to start regarding it more as a duty, like he was clinging to his captain role as long as he was allowed. They’d had an almost-fight about it once, when Hanai had said, _“I think we need to start letting go.”_ And then he had, even thought Tajima had agreed to no such thing.

But Tajima, who kept up religiously with team rosters, with every scrap of statistic and number even from teams that weren’t his own, had had no idea that Hanai played for Meiji. He might have had a vague memory of hearing that he’d transferred there, but when Hanai had lost contact with them, Tajima had simply assumed he’d cut himself off from baseball as well. Still, how could he not have known there would be a new player with a familiar name in the mix today? Unless…

_“...if Meiji’s new pinch hitter is in the lineup, you have to take lots of n-notes!”_

Now Tajima did laugh, pressing a forearm over his mouth somewhat ineffectually to muffle it. Meiji had just announced they’d added a new pinch hitter to their roster a week ago, but none of the official sources had given a name. And Tajima hadn’t yet bothered to pursue his back channels of acquaintances and teammates to see if anyone knew more; he’d figured he could look into it later, or just see the guy in person if they put him in when Meiji played today. That it could be Hanai had never even occurred to him.

For a moment he considered moving on; he could just pretend he’d never seen Hanai here, and watch him from a distance in the stands instead. Or he could easily find someone else to take to bed (there were still plenty of options walking around, even if they didn’t check _every_ one of his boxes) and just strike up a normal ‘how-have-you-been’ conversation with Hanai. Ask him how he came to play for Meiji, what his team was like, and did he miss the days in high school? _Did he miss me?_

But damn if every hypothetical conversation with Hanai didn’t sound _so_ much better in his imagination if they were having it in bed, preferably after one or more orgasms. 

And then he thought of what Hanai’s face would look like if he suddenly appeared out of nowhere and propositioned him, and knew that, even setting everything else aside, he couldn’t pass up entertainment that good in a million years.

Before he could think too hard about it (not his forte anyway), Tajima wove his way through the crowd until he was standing at Hanai’s elbow. More literally than he’d like, too--their height difference hadn’t changed much since high school, and Tajima would have been more annoyed about it if he didn’t find it so attractive.

“Yo! Didn’t think I’d see you here!” He kept his friendly back pat relatively gentle, but Hanai’s spine still went stiff as a rod under his palm. When he turned his head, slowly, there was already recognition glinting in his eyes. His expression was caught somewhere between hope and fear and Tajima had an immediate and overwhelming urge to grab his face and kiss it. Hanai’s features--his nose, his cheekbones, the line of his jaw--had sharpened and matured with age, but his eyes and his expressions hadn’t changed a bit.

He was still gorgeous, and yeah, Tajima still liked him a whole fuckin’ lot.

“Yu--Tajima?” Hanai actually sidestepped a little away from him, and Tajima was briefly offended before he realized that he’d been kind of leaning into his personal space already without realizing. “Why are you…” He trailed off, as if it had just occurred to him that it was kind of dumb to ask why Tajima would be present at any baseball related event.

“I didn’t know you played for Meiji!” Tajima knew from experience that if he let Hanai lead this conversation, they’d never get to the part where he asked to sleep with him tonight. “I didn’t know you came back to baseball.”

Hanai was still blinking at him like he wasn’t sure Tajima was really there, but at his words his hand went up to rub self-consciously at his neck. “‘...came back’,” he repeated softly, and then all in a rush, like he’d been waiting to see Tajima and tell him, “I kind of hit a rut at university. Got really bored and...nothing was helping. So I just...showed up to practice one day, and they remembered me from Koshien. The coach let me train with them until I was reliable enough to get on the roster.” 

“I bet that pissed off some of the kids that got scouted from the beginning,” Tajima said, grinning. Hanai stared at him for a moment, almost warily, like he couldn’t believe they were talking this easily when Tajima had literally just appeared out of nowhere after four years...and then the line of his mouth softened. 

“They were pretty pissed,” he admitted. “But I’m still just a pinch hitter--I’ll be right back on the bench if I don’t do something out there today.”

“You will,” said Tajima dismissively, because it was obvious. It still made Hanai stare at him again, in a different way this time, a way that made it hard to stand still, suddenly. He shifted from foot to foot. 

“Did you come here with anyone?”

“...my team?” Hanai was clearly thrown by the abrupt topic change, but both players and fans were beginning to drift toward the stadium now, and Tajima needed this conversation to reach its crux sooner than later. He shook his head impatiently. 

“Are you _with_ anyone, Hanai?”

“Wha--you mean like--? _Why?_ ” Oh good, Tajima had been looking forward to this part. And there it was, the beginnings of the flush starting to creep up Hanai’s throat.

“Oh, s’nothing big. I just have a hotel room out here where I’m staying tonight, after the game. Wanted to see if you’d share it with me.” Ah, no, wait, Hanai might think he meant he just needed someone to split the cost with or something. He had to clarify. “For sex.”

There was a long pause, while Hanai’s expression slowly went through every entertaining iteration that Tajima could have hoped for. He waited, patiently, for Hanai to become verbal again. 

_**“What the hell?”**_ Hanai’s voice, when it finally came out, was strangled. “You--are you serious?”

He knew Hanai wasn’t surprised by the fact that they were both guys and he was asking; it had only taken about a year or so into his high school career for Tajima to realize he was equally happy to crush on and fantasize about boys as well as girls, and he hadn’t seen any particular reason not to share this with the rest of the team whenever it came up. Hanai might not even be surprised that Tajima was asking him specifically--he’d only been a little more subtle with his massive crush, especially by the time they hit their third year. To be honest, he’d come very close to asking Hanai this exact thing several times leading up to (and after) graduation, and as dense as he could be Hanai couldn’t have entirely missed that. 

But still, probably not the kind of thing he’d woken up this morning expecting. That was fair; Tajima hadn’t woken up expecting this either, so they were even!

“I’m serious. I know it’s been a long time, but…” Tajima shrugged. “It’s been _a long time_ , y’know?”

“I mean, no pressure though,” he added seriously, and he hoped Hanai understood that he meant it. Making Hanai flustered was fun, that hadn’t changed, but he didn’t want to irreparably break something that was this fragile already. “We can just talk, or get a drink or something; I can find someone else for tonight--”

Hanai made a noise through his nose at that, a strange, sharp huff that Tajima couldn’t quite interpret. Maybe he was trying not to sneeze or something. But then...

“...fine, yes.” The words were mumbled so low that if Tajima hadn’t been listening for them he might have missed it. As it was, he still almost couldn’t believe what he’d heard.

“Yes?!” Tajima grabbed Hanai’s bicep (which felt even nicer than it looked) and pushed him around so he could look him in the eyes. He’d hoped Hanai might say yes, but at the same time he hadn’t _expected_ that Hanai would say yes.

“ _ **Yes** ,_ okay?” Hanai hissed, his hand shooting out to cover Tajima’s mouth. “Stop saying it before someone hears!” His palm was broad and warm and callused, and Tajima, generous in his victory, did not give in to the temptation to lick it.

“I’ll find you after the game then,” Tajima said, after Hanai had warily removed his hand. “I’m excited! And don’t worry, I brought all the stuff we need with me.” He patted his backpack.

Hanai opened and closed his mouth like a fish, and then pulled his baseball cap down lower over his eyes. “If I screw up out there today, it’s going to be your fault!” he snapped heatedly, and his face and ears got red in the exact same way Tajima remembered from high school. He loved it.

“Don’t worry, I promise to take responsibility!” He saluted, favoring Hanai with a grin that he hoped got the innuendo across well enough.

***

Hanai hit a home run in the seventh inning, straight into the sun the way he’d done for them at Koshien years ago. Tajima nearly clocked some guy in the jaw leaping out of his seat to roar, _**“AZUSA!”**_ at the top of his lungs.

Three runs and one inning later, Meiji claimed the final playoff spot. 

And two hours after that, Tajima had talked his way past two bemused but accommodating stadium employees who recognized him, wove through the maze of halls, and waited for the rest of the Meiji team to clear out, whooping and shoving and still high on victory. Hanai was the last one in the locker room, oiling his glove with meticulous care. 

Tajima leaned against the doorway, managing to stay quiet and watch Hanai’s long, callused fingers moving over the glove leather for approximately fifteen seconds before he blurted, “Congratulations!”

Hanai looked up, scowling. “I heard you yelling my name. My _first name._ ”

“I wanted you to know it was me.” Tajima grinned back, unrepentant. “Besides, just think of it as practice.”

“Practice for what?” Hanai looked suspicious, and it thrilled Tajima because he was _learning_ , but still not fast enough.

“For what you’re gonna be hearing tonight.” Tajima pushed off the doorjamb and crossed the room to him, because looking and not touching was driving him crazy, had been driving him crazy for seven innings.

He’d probably always regret not doing this earlier, not doing it after Koshien the way he’d wanted to so badly. But now was still better than never.

Hanai didn’t pull away when Tajima lifted his free hand to his mouth and kissed his knuckles, his fingertips, his palm that still smelled like wood and leather. He didn’t resist when Tajima picked up his glove from his lap and placed it carefully to the side, and then replaced it with himself. He just got redder and redder, and his breathing more and more uneven.

It was very tempting to just... _devour_ him, but Tajima made himself go slow, because he would have bet a decent amount of money that Hanai had never done this before, at least not with a guy. 

But...surely just one or two quick marks couldn’t hurt...

“I haven’t, um, showered,” Hanai rasped, his voice kind of choked. Tajima nipped his ear.

“S’okay.” The side of his throat smelled like sweat and sun and grass. He smelled like a baseball diamond. “S’ _really_ okay,” Tajima amended with a groan. His hands drifted lower, down to the thickness of Hanai’s thighs, only to have his wrists grabbed with a gasp.

“Not here,” Hanai said, firm even though Tajima could feel the little tremors running through him. “I thought you said you had a hotel?”

“I do.” Tajima had briefly forgotten about it entirely, or maybe he’d just been far too into this whole locker room scenario, which had featured prominently in a majority of his fantasies both awake and asleep. He figured he might as well give it one more try. “If we’re quick, we could probably do round one right now though--”

Hanai’s answer was to immediately stand up and--quite rudely--dump Tajima off his lap. “You haven’t changed a bit,” he grumbled, rubbing his palms distractedly against his thighs. 

Undeterred, Tajima took one of his hands. “C’mon then; there’s too many things I wanna do to you for us to waste time.” He heard Hanai sputter behind him, felt his hand jerk in Tajima’s grasp, but he didn’t need to look back to know that Hanai was bright red...and that he was following Tajima anyway.

***

The journey there was not without snags, not even when they finally made it back to Tajima’s chosen hotel, Hanai’s throat already scattered with (definitely more than one or two) hickeys.

Some guys outside the hotel recognized Tajima and wanted his autograph. The hotel’s elevator was out of order, so they had to climb six flights of stairs to reach the room. And when Tajima finally dumped his pack of supplies out on the bed and asked Hanai which flavor of lube he preferred, Hanai collapsed onto the pillows and put his hands over his face instead of being thrilled at the selection.

Still, they figured it out. Tajima was a man on a mission, and once they were alone in the dark, Hanai seemed to realize there was really no point to his embarrassment anymore. 

In fact, twenty minutes later, _he_ was the impatient one.

“Nnnn-- _fuck_ , Tajima, _please_ \--”

“M’not done yet though,” Tajima murmured, tracing the stark V-line of Hanai’s hips with his tongue. The second he’d seen how much more muscle Hanai had put on since they’d last been in a changing room together, he’d declared that his first order of business was going to be to map every one of them with his mouth. All of Hanai’s squirming and noises were just an excellent bonus.

He was feeling so pleased with himself that he let his guard down. The only warning he got, preoccupied as he was with getting ready to start leaving marks on Hanai’s inner thighs, was a low growling sound.

_Huh_ , a distant part of his mind thought, intrigued. _That sound was **super** hot, I wonder--_

And then the world flipped one-eighty degrees and Tajima was flat on his back, Hanai’s hands braced on either side of his head and his hips pinned to the bed by the hard press of his thighs.

Hanai was breathing heavily, and this close Tajima could see how blown his pupils were. “ _My_ turn, Yuuichirou,” he breathed.

Tajima had just enough time to half-moan, half-laugh, “ _This_ is what it took to get you on a first name basis--” before Hanai leaned in and licked a hot, shameless stripe up his throat and closed his teeth over the soft place under his ear.

They both became _very_ acquainted with each other’s first names after that.

They were taking a breather a couple hours later when Tajima finally picked up his phone to see why it kept lighting up and stared blearily at the screen, realizing he’d gotten a slew of LINE messages over the past several hours. He opened the app.

Ren’s had the most exclamation points and cute stickers, but every single text was some version of ‘Say hi to Hanai for us!’ Except for Kosuke’s, which was in a separate, private thread and said much the same thing, only with ‘when he’s conscious again’ appended to it.

Hanai made a questioning grumble into his shoulder and Tajima chuckled. “The guys say hello.” 

Hanai’s next noise was a kind of long-suffering groan, but that only made Tajima laugh all the more.


End file.
